Bang, Bang
by CircadianDance
Summary: They're at it for three hours. Sam comes back out, frustration lining his features as he leans against the register counter. "I'm starting to think there really isn't anything to this, Dean." Wincest.


**Title:** _Bang, Bang_

**Pairing:** Sam/Dean

**A/N:** Written for a request on tumblr, prompt was based on a gif I did where instead of saying 'frisky women,' Dean responds 'frisky brothers,' in the video. It's kind of AU, the 'frisky women' scene in this is not from the episode of the show that it is canonly. Warning, this is somewhat AU, I imagine it to take place somewhere after Season Four, when the boys are more wrapped up in each other than the lives of others (killing humans that are possessed versus exorcising them them), and one of the boys do kill, so be warned of that. It was part of the request I received.

**Summary:** They're at it for three hours. Sam comes back out, frustration lining his features as he leans against the register counter. "I'm starting to think there really isn't anything to this, Dean."

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Blood, death, violence, incest, sex, sex, sex.

**Word Count:** 2,895

* * *

><p>They're fucking in the Impala. Again.<p>

Dean's got the seat pushed back as far as it will go, and Sam's gigantic freaking self is just draped all over the leather, one leg out the open door, the other crammed against the middle console. Dean has one armed wrapped around Sam's middle and the other one against the door frame, trying to hold himself up. It's awkward as hell, and Sam has to hold really still, but he's still moaning as Dean tries to frantically buck his hips, cock sliding between Sam's cheeks more so than in and out of his ass.

Sweat sticks to Dean like a film; he can taste it on his upper lip as he leans down and bites at Sam's neck.

"Next time we have sex, we're waiting until it's dark." Sam mutters. His legs are suctioning to the seat.

He's almost ready to tell Dean they can just wait until they get into town to finish, honestly, they're pulled over on the side of the goddamn road and it's noon and they've been going at it for twenty minutes already, and god forbid, what if a bus full of children pass by, but then Dean's fingers are wrapping around his cock and then his palm is causing this sweet pressure, and that, mixed with Dean now licking and sucking at his ear, whispering something about, "God, Sammy, I love fucking you during the day, get to look at you all lit up," and Sam ends up coming first, knees pushing forward painfully since there's so little room so his stomach muscles can tighten as his cock pulsates.

Dean's smirking. Sam doesn't even have to see it to know that he is.

"Give me two seconds," Dean's saying, but before the words are even out of his mouth, Sam feels him come inside him, and he makes a face.

"Is there even anything to clean myself off with?" Sam sighs as Dean pulls out and leans sideways to get out of the hot car. "You should've just pulled out and jizzed in the grass or something."

"Not nearly as fun, Sammy. It's all in the money shot."

He hears Dean's zipper, but he doesn't open his eyes yet. He hates being sticky.

Dean laughs and smacks Sam playfully on the ass, then leaves Sam to fry in the sunlight that's streaming through the Impala's open door while he looks for a dirty shirt in the trunk to wipe Sam off with.

* * *

><p>They'd heard about the case from Bobby. Some antique shop out in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio, supposedly three people who have bought items from the shop in the last month have committed suicide just days after making their purchase. Bobby said there was no correlation between victims. One was a middle aged white male, one was a teenage white girl, and one was an elderly black woman. No connection to each other, other than the shop, which had just opened recently. It was the kind of case Dean usually tried to brush off as 'natural causes,' but, surprising, he seemed up for this one, Sam had noticed. Eager to get on the road, maybe.<p>

They'd left early, and, after their quick roadside detour, had gotten into town a little past one.

Sam is eyeing the outside of the shop warily. It seems like any other antique shop, but the large glass window to the right of the door has a selection of vintage clowns on display and he's getting the chills already. Figurines, mostly, their mismatched hobo clothes and frowns painted into smiles, posed on a large shelf built into the wall. He's about to just tell Dean that it probably is 'natural causes' on this one and get the hell out of dodge, but then Dean is chuckling and sliding his hand around Sam's and his breathing steadies again.

"You okay there, Samantha? I think they like you." Dean is grinning like he won the lottery, already pulling Sam into the shop.

"Yeah, shut up, jerk." Sam grinds out as the bell above them chimes.

Dean just smiles coyly to the side, then puts on a smile. The shopkeeper is at the front desk, this tiny frail, old thing, cataracts shining behind copper colored frames as she glances up, very up, at Sam and Dean over the counter.

"Hello, boys." Her voice is soft, but she smiles at them fondly, glancing at their entwined hands.

Dean has the decency to at least look sheepish and he lets go of Sam's hand to run his fingers along the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"No, no, not at all," her smile widens as she continues, "you kids think you're all the rage these days. I took my first female lover before either of you were born, I'm sure."

Sam snorts so hard, he almost chokes, and he's covering his mouth with his hand before he starts laughing. Well. He wasn't expecting that.

Dean just waggles his eyebrows and presses up against the counter. "Color me impressed. I would have never guessed."

"You young folk never do, you all think you're the only ones having sex, too. Anyway, anything I can help you two find or are you just browsing?"

Sam is standing close to Dean as he closes his eyes in mock concentration. "Just browsing," Sam interrupts, "we've been meaning to stop by, we're new to town and all. Just wanted to see what kind of things were available."

Excited, she claps her hands together and starts going on about the latest odds and ends that have found their way into her shop when _Dean's hand slides over and starts fucking touching Sam's dick._

The woman is still talking, but it's all noise to Sam now. He's trying to look like he's listening, but he doesn't want to look her in the eyes because he feels like she'd _know_ what Dean was doing just out of her view. Blood's heading straight to his cock and it's getting hard to keep his breathing steady.

Dean's trying to keep from grinning. His bottom lip is tucked in under his teeth, and Sam can see the muscles of his jaw clenching, attempting to keep a straight face.

The lady coughs pointedly. Dean's hand jerks back and she snorts. "Just have a look around, boys. I'll be in the back. Please don't break anything if you two of you get a little frisky, okay?"

She's gone, and Sam's trying to will away his erection. Dean touches him for two minutes, he just fucking orgasmed an hour ago, and he's already painfully hard.

"Way to give us away there, Sammy," Dean murmurs, walking away to get the EMF reader out so he's not in the owner's view.

"Yeah," Sam rolls his eyes, "because that was totally my fault."

* * *

><p>There was nothing. No EMF, no sulfur, no hex bags. The scoured the shop for three hours. Mabel, the owner, checking on them every half an hour or so to see if there'd be anything that interested them yet. She didn't seem in a hurry, just popped in and out of the back, and no other customers came in.<p>

When she walks out with lemonade, Sam and Dean gladly accept a glass.

"Thoughts, boys?" She asks as they lift the cups to their lips.

"Really good, thanks," Sam says, finishing it quickly.

Dean makes an agreeable noise from the back of his throat as he continues to chug.

They end spending $86.74 on some silver vase looking thing and Mabel looks so surprised that they're actually buying something.

She thanks them both and tells them they're welcome back, anytime.

It makes Sam feel a little guilty.

* * *

><p>The get their hotel all rented and unpack some of their things, Sam going straight for his laptop to try to bring up anything from the local news that might be helpful. He's just gone back thirty years and still nothing when Dean walks in with dinner.<p>

"Here, I got your bitch food," Dean mutters around a cheeseburger he's already got in his mouth. He tosses Sam a plastic dish with a salad in it and falls back on the bed, continuing to eat.

"You get me a fork, Dean?" Sam raises his eye brow and looks over at his brother.

"Shit, I knew I was forgetting something."

"You're joking, right?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah."

Sam rolls his eyes and places the salad off to the side. He's not eating with his _hands_, and if he's not eating dinner, like hell is Dean getting a quickie before they break into the shop.

* * *

><p>Sam picks the lock easily. There's no back door, unfortunately, since it would look a little less suspicious, but at least he's fast at breaking and entering. The chimes ding above his head and, jesus, this place looks a lot fucking creepier at night.<p>

When Dean bumps into his back, Sam almost jumps.

"Calm down, Sam."

"I just want to go over this place again and get the hell out. I have a bad feeling about this."

They split up, Sam going into the back, the place they hadn't looked yet, and Dean gives the front a once over, again. He's got the sneaking suspicion that Sam took the back only because of the clowns out front, but he doesn't call him out on it.

They're at it for three hours. Sam comes back out, frustration lining his features as he leans against the register counter. "I'm starting to think there really isn't anything to this, Dean."

Dean drops the box of whatever the hell it is, junk mostly, he's got in his hands and heads across the store towards Sammy.

"You think this place is creepy, Sam?" Dean is asking as he finally gets close enough to Sam that he can see his face.

"A little, not wendigo jumping out at me creepy, but weird after dark. Why?"

"Mm, just thinking about how," Dean grabs Sam's wrist and spins him around, pressing his chest against Sam's back and crushing Sam's stomach against the counter, "I'm kind of getting turned on and I'm thinking I'm going to fuck you over this desk."

Sam laughs. "What the hell was in that box? Antiques giving you an erection now?"

"Just shut up, Sam." Dean laughs and reaches around to start undoing Sam's pants.

He wasn't even thinking about thinking about being aroused five minutes ago, but as soon as Dean's fingers are on the fabric of his jeans, Sam's bucking his hips back against Dean's, trying to cause enough friction to get Dean really hard. The way Dean's breath starts hitching, Sam thinks he's doing a good job.

Dean unbuckles his belt and shifts his own pants down, just dropping them to his knees, then pools Sam's around his ankles.

"God, Sammy, you're so fucking hot." Dean bites his lip as he stares down the smooth expanse of Sam's back, admiring his ass. He takes one cheek in his hand and squeezes, loving the way Sam squirmed in response.

They didn't bring lube, so Dean reaches around to Sam's mouth and slides two fingers in. When Sam starts to suck, tongue running over each digit, coating it in spit, Dean's cock fucking throbs. He grinds against Sam's backside as he concentrates on the feeling of Sam's mouth on his hand.

After a minute, Dean takes his hand back and spreads Sam apart, pushing in the two fingers at once, waiting for the muscles to relax around him. Giving a few practice stretches, Dean is satisfied and Sam starts pushing back against him.

He presses his cock against Sam and pushes past the first ring of muscle, the tightness engulfing him. It's not a slick as he'd like, but after a few strokes it's easy enough, and then he's ramming Sam against the desk.

"Fuck, Dean." Sam is swallowing each breath like he's drowning.

Sam grabs a hold of the side of the countertop, trying to steady himself. His hands are splayed across the wood and brush against something, but he's not paying attention enough to look under the counter and see what the hell it was.

They've been fucking for fifteen minutes when the doors burst open and the cops bust in.

* * *

><p>Dean's starting to get nervous. Sam's in a separate holding cell, he hasn't seen him since they were put in different cars outside of the shop. It's been hours. He's had a dick cop trying to interrogate him. They ran his prints, picked up his damn case from Hendrickson and are all hopped up, thinking they busted a killer with a mile long rap sheet, although now they really think he's crazy because it's on record that Sam's his brother, whom they found him cock deep in. F.B.I. was supposed to arrive in the morning, he was warned. They were flying in special for him, the cop explained with a sneer.<p>

"So, you wanna try this again, you sick bastard?" The man's beady eyes stared at Dean behind a video camera, small but expensive looking.

Dean smiles for the camera. "I'm an Aquarius. I love sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky brothers."

The man shoots Dean a disgusted look and shakes his head. "You are a sick fuck, you know that? You born an incestual bastard or were you raised that way? Daddy touch you so you had to mess with your kid brother? I heard he was pretty normal before you dragged him away, that's what his file said, anyway."

Dean swallows. If his hands weren't handcuffed, he's pretty sure he would have lunged for his throat. He's so angry now, he doesn't even think he could speak. Rage is flowing.

Spotting the look on Dean's face, the cop grins. "Touch a nerve, did I?"

He stands, and walks around the table to Dean's side and ducks down, lips close to Dean's ear. "Get mad when I talk about daddy, huh? Or do you get madder when I talk about you shoving your dick in your brothers ass? That the first time, huh? Probably not, looked like you enjoyed it a little to much for it to be-"

He's interrupted when Dean slams the side of his head right into the guy's nose, blood streaming out as soon as he hears the bone crack.

Standing aghast, the man holds a hand to his bleeding nose and looks down at Dean in fury. He punches Dean so hard, the chair he's in falls over and he crashes to his side. The cop pulls his foot back and gets ready to slam it into Dean's side right when the door busts open.

The guy never had a chance. Sam is on him in seconds, tackling him to the ground. Before he can move, he's got a Police issued Glock barrel jammed into the back of his head and Sam doesn't even blink as he pulls the trigger, just runs his eyes over Dean to see if he's hurt.

"Jesus fucking christ, Sammy, what the fuck are you doing?" Dean struggles on the floor, trying to stand up with his hands bound.

There was already blood on Sam's clothing, but now he's covered, blood already pooling around poor what's-his-name, Sam patting him down, trying to find the handcuff key.

Once Dean is free, Sam crushes his face against Dean, biting fiercely at his lips, trying to shove his tongue in his mouth. Dean's moaning against the kiss and bumps into the table. They part quickly. .

"Not that you're not sexy and all, Sam, but seriously. What the hell did you just do?" Dean's hands are shaking and he hold himself up with the table.

"The buildings on fire, we have to hurry." Sam says, staring at Dean expectantly.

"The fucking building's on fire and you're kissing me?" Dean rolls his eyes and bites his lip. "I don't know how the fuck we're going to get out of this one."

Sam waves the Glock. "Well we've got this, and we've got each other, we'd better start running now."

"Sounds like a plan." Dean answers and they head for the door.

As a last thought, Dean pauses and turns around and grabs the camera from the table. He can smell the smoke now, so he hurries, meeting Sam in the hall. At the end he can see flames starting to lick up the walls.

They head for the entrance and Dean tries not to count how many bodies he passes over. Sam leads the way, gun positioned in front of him. They make it out and the fire is worse than Dean thought. Half the building is up in flames. They start running.

"Good thing we parked the Impala away from the shop," Sam says, long legs stretching as he tries to stay in the cover of darkness as much as possible. "Why'd you grab that camera anyway?"

"Because," Dean pants, trying to keep up with Sam's stride, "We have to pick up where we left off earlier. Duh, Sammy."

Sam just smirks and keeps running.

* * *

><p>Then they make it to Indiana, they call Bobby and tell him that he's going to need to put someone else on the case.<p>

**End.**

* * *

><p>AN: And I do apologize for Sam being OC, for the record, here is the exact request I received for the fic;

Oh my god can this please be turned into a fic, they just don't CARE what the world thinks because they're too busy fighting and fucking and they're on a case so they've broken into this antiques shop right, but they're too busy fucking on the counter to notice the blinking red alarm and cops show up and they're taken in but a moment after this video ends sam bursts in and shoots the officers point blank in the head one after the other bang bang and grabs dean and thrusts his tongue in his mouth and sam crushes himself against dean because he didn't like being separated like that and he had to kill _so _many people to get back to him but it's okay now they're together and the station's going up in flames around them and they take off but dean decides to take the camera with him because he's got _plans _for Sam and that video camera.

Thoughts? This was my first time writing Supernatural~


End file.
